


The Devil In Me

by jaybirddraws (simplestorange)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hate Sex, Lesbian Character, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Pegging, Unhealthy Relationships, borderline abusive sex! thats what, dark themes, what happens when somebody you hate has a hopeless crush on you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26871625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplestorange/pseuds/jaybirddraws
Summary: Helissent Blackstone's got a broken heart, four years of pent-up sexual frustration, and an all too willing admirer who'll take any scrap of affection she tosses his way.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	The Devil In Me

**Author's Note:**

> what's the tag for sex that's very much self-harm? this was supposed to be a pity fuck but it turned into a hate fuck cuz helissent hates the exarch with a burning passion

Helissent stalks back to the Pendants, fury etched all over her face and preventing would-be annoyances from approaching her. She feels murderous. She feels broken. 

They had just returned from Amh Araeng. From the Lightwarden. From Minfilia’s transition into Ryne, which Helissent is secretly incredibly grateful for. 

Ryne is such a sweet girl, and she didn’t understand why Helissent wouldn’t look at her, why her gaze would run over her like she didn’t see her at all. Helissent knows it hurt the girl’s feelings, but she’d rather hurt her than saddle her with the knowledge of who the original Minfilia was. 

Seeing her dead wife reincarnated as a child was unsettling, uncomfortable, and downright unbearable. She thanks the gods that no one told the poor kid who’s face she inherited. That would’ve been a hellish conversation. 

Now, though, Minfilia was truly gone, and Ryne was Ryne. 

Minfilia _had_ been gone. The only thing that disappeared was the Word, and Helissent hated that phantom with every fiber of her being, so really, no hard feelings there. But it had hurt when the Word caressed her face, pressed her body against Helissent’s, and there had been the briefest flash of _Minfilia_ in her eyes. 

“My rose,” the Word said in Minfilia’s voice, “If only fate had not sought to keep us apart.” 

Helissent had burst into tears, gripped the Word’s hand and pushed her face into it, cried harder when she realized that this manifestation did not share Minfilia’s scent. “I love you,’ she gasped like she was drowning, “I still love you. I miss you everyday.”

The Word’s face crumpled. Instead of answering, she presses a soft kiss to Helissent’s lips, and disappears as Ryne finally claims her own life for herself. 

It _was_ a hellish conversation, as it turns out. Ryne had put together the pieces from watching them, and it was clear that the poor girl was deeply unsettled. “I didn’t know,’ she had said apologetically, wringing her hands. “That I was...your wife…”

“You weren’t,” Helissent interrupts. “You weren’t her. You’ve always been you.” It’s true. Part of why Ryne was so uncomfortable to be around was because she was so different from Minfilia. Those differences helped keep Helissent sane, though. That and the fact that Ryne was as young as the twins, who Helissent considered her children. 

Regardless, the Word is dead, Ryne is Ryne, and Helissent can still feel Minfilia’s kiss on her lips and she’s wracked with a pain so debilitating she wonders if it’s the light inside of her again. 

It subsides after a moment. Just heartbreak, then. She stomps to her room, suddenly incensed. What right does her heart have to grieve? It’s been four years. Four years since losing the love of her life.

It feels like no time has passed at all. 

Helissent arrives at her room and pushes her way in, coming to a stop to find that the Exarch is already in her quarters. She shoves down the familiar twinge of disgust and forces herself to be civil. 

“Exarch,” she greets cooly, brushing by him and setting her tome on the desk. 

“Helissent. How was your journey in Amh Araeng?” 

Rage and grief are tangible things that twist inside of her, choking her. She takes a deep, calming breath and straightens her posture. “Fine.” 

The Exarch falters here, makes a little _oh_ noise like he’s just remembered how pointedly she’s rejected his overtures of friendship. She knows he’s in love with her. It’s written all over his pathetically open face, even when his hood obscures his eyes. He thinks he’s doing a good job of hiding it. 

“I’m...glad to hear it, my friend,’ he says anyway, his voice soft and a little frayed around the edges. 

Helissent used to be a kind woman. She’s not kind anymore. It’s been beaten out of her. She turns around and stares down at him, relishing when he flinches under the weight of her gaze. “We’re not friends.”

“I know.”

Curious, then, because he certainly keeps _acting_ like they are. Helissent feels a spark of anger deep in her belly. How many more boundaries will he cross? How many more ilms must he take for himself? If he wants her that badly, he shall _have_ her. There’s nothing left of this wretched body besides her hurricane of grief. If he so desperately wants to claim what little of her is left, she’ll fucking _invite_ him. 

“Exarch. Do you want me to fuck you?”

The question stops him in his tracks. His jaw hangs open, full lips prettily wrapped around a gasp. He is pretty, she’ll give him that. “I-what?”

Helissent rolls her eyes. She strides over to the bed, removes a strap from the dresser next to it. “Do you want me to fuck you,” she repeats, holding it up. “You spend so much time hanging onto my every word, I assumed you must have had an ulterior motive.” 

It’s the lowest blow she’s ever done to anyone, and she can see the way that it guts him. He doesn’t deserve this. She wants him to see just how wretched she is. Maybe it’ll make him leave her alone. 

“Yes,” he breathes, surprising her and looking like he’s surprised himself, too. “I’ll admit, this isn’t quite what I imagined when I-”

“Shut up,” Helissent interrupts. She doesn’t want to think about this man who’s so obsessed with her he’ll summon her across time and space just to keep her near him. Or the fact that he’s admitting to _thinking_ about them having sex. Fucking fanboy. “Get on the bed.”

He obeys immediately, settling on his back and spreading his legs. He grins like all his namedays have come at once. “We’re really doing this?” he asks, the slightest tinge of hope in his voice. It makes her want to kill it. 

“This is a _favor,_ ” Helissent hisses, hiking his robes up around his waist and spitting on her fingers. “I still despise you.”

His grin snaps in half, turns broken. “I know,” he murmurs, dignified as ever even with his lower half nude and splayed open for her. His skin is the wrong shade of pale. He flushes red in the wrong places. 

He _infuriates_ her. She thinks she might hate him. The Word of the Mother’s empty gaze flashes in her head again, sending a sharp stab of grief in her heart. She wants to fight something. She wants to fuck something. She just wants to stop _feeling_ for a damn second. 

She keeps her head on long enough to get consent, at least, as much consent as one can get in this kind of situation. She looks him in the face. “Tell me to stop and I will,” she says. “I’m going to hurt you if I keep going.”

He sets his mouth into a frown. “I know you’re only using me to hurt yourself,” he says. “You act like I’m not using you for the same.”

It’s an uncomfortably vulnerable admission, and Heliseent elects to ignore it entirely. She shrugs. “As long as we’re on the same page.” She almost wants to say more, but she settles for gently working her fingers into him and it’s the kindest she’s ever touched him. The _only_ time she’s ever touched him. He gasps at first contact, high and breathy, and it sounds similar but it’s wrong, too. 

He’s tight on the inside. Soft, warm, but not wet, and she pulls her hand away to rewet her fingers. Spit doesn’t make for good lube. It’s too thin. 

The Exarch winces as she jerks her fingers just a tad too rough, and his weeping cock leaks over his robes. 

_Disgusting,_ she thinks. _He actually likes this._

It’s easy to get detached. It’s nothing, it’s just sex. It’s not even bodies working together: she moves her body completely out of sync with his on purpose, missing his beats and cues so that they bump into each other like two poorly fit puzzle pieces. Once he’s open enough that she’s confident he won’t rip on her strap, she recedes her hands and settles back on her haunches. 

He lifts his head to look at her, confused. His eyes are glossy with lust. She hates him so viciously in that moment that she wants to bash his head in. Instead, she shuts her eyes and stretches, knowing that he’s drinking in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. When she opens her eyes, he’s still looking at her reverently, his mouth half open and decidedly empty. 

She wraps a fist around her strap and shakes it. “Well?” she asks, coldness seeping into her tone. “Are you going to get it ready?”

He scrambles on all fours, almost tangling himself in his robes as he spreads his lips for dark black plastic, taking her all the way down into his throat before she has a chance to stop him. He sucks at her noisily, it grates on her ears. After the dildo is positively dripping, he pulls off. He wipes at the back of his mouth and grins, pleased with himself. 

“How do you want me to ruin you?” she asks, because while she’s angry, she’s not uncouth. She won’t take anything that’s not freely given. He gasps at her language, she wonders if he imagined that the hero of his dreams was more refined. She’s not refined. She’s the bitter, most broken fragment of herself that she’s ever been. She hopes he cuts himself to ribbons trying to touch her jagged edges.

Instead of answering her, the Exarch rolls himself onto his stomach and lifts his hips, pulling his robes up to bare himself for her. It’s almost easier this way. She can almost pretend that his pale skin is a little tanner, a little softer, his hips a little wider under the heavy press of her hand. She lines herself up and sinks into him, and the sound that he makes-that broken little reedy whimper-is so close that she almost cries then and there. 

She lets him adjust. She’s not a monster. After he’s desperate and begging, though, rocking himself back and forth on her strap underneath her body, she starts to thrust. It’s purely mechanical. 

In another world, another time, Minfilia arches her back and cries out as Helissent pounds into her. She sings for her, sweeter than any birdsong, and her thighs shake and her hips roll and her arms tremble as she tries her best to endure the Warrior of Light’s onslaught. Face down was Minfilia’s favorite position. Helissent preferred it when she was face up, when she could look into Minfilia’s blue eyes and whisper _I love you, I love you, I love you_ like it was the only prayer worth repeating. 

In this world, the Exarch shudders to pieces under her relentless attack, coming with a short, choked off, _masculine_ cry that ends as soon as she claps a hand over his mouth. 

“Don’t speak,” she begs him, on the verge of breaking. Anything to keep the illusion a little longer. Anything to keep envisioning Minfilia’s long, blonde hair pulled down from its perpetual braided updo and wrapped in Helissent’s fist. 

She fucks him through his orgasm, only stopping when his body flails from oversensitivity. When he rolls back over, his spent penis is red and soft and ugly. His hole isn’t much better off. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, forgetting her command. Tears track down his cheeks. “Thank you for letting me..indulge in a fantasy, even just this once.” 

Helissent is still worked up, still itching for a fight. “You’re not done,” she says, unhooking the strap and carefully pulling it off. It’s wet and disgusting, she tosses it aside with the promise of cleaning it later. The Exarch makes a confused noise and Helissent points to her groin, the thick bush of hair matted down from sweat against her brown skin. “I didn’t come.”

The Exarch looks like she’s granted him the biggest mercy of his life, and again, he desperately scrambles into position. Helissent stops him with a hand, and settles herself on the bed so that her back is against the headboard and her legs are stretched out in front of her. She swings them around on either side of the Exarch, and he gasps when he sees just how wet and wanting she is. 

She didn’t intend to go this far, but she’s a little desperate herself, and probably half mad with grief. She can hate herself in the morning. All that matters right now is soaking his face with her come. “Well?” she says, lifting her hips. “You’ll never get this chance again. I suggest you commit it to memory.”

He takes her advice and moves slowly, like he wants to preserve this moment forever, like he’s been waiting for this for over a hundred years. Knowing him, he probably has. Something vile curls in her stomach. All these years, and he’s been watching her, waiting for her, wanting her...it makes her want to puke. 

The Exarch sets his hands on her thighs, stroking gently. His crystal hand is cool despite the heat of their bodies. He kisses the crook of her bent knee, then trails his lips along her inner thigh until he reaches her slick center. 

_It’s not for you,_ Helissent wants to scream, but she holds her tongue. He already knows she would never be his. She doesn’t need to rub salt into his broken heart any more than she needs to keep torturing herself by pretending to see her wife underneath that hood. 

He presses his lips to her folds carefully, like she’s something fragile, like she’s something to be savored. It hurts worse than if he’d bitten her, because Minfilia used to do the same thing. He tentatively pokes his tongue out and laps at her, nervously at first, then more confidently when her hips buck entirely without her consent. 

He braces himself on her thighs and dives in, making up for what he clearly lacks in experience with enthusiasm. His teeth bump her clit and she hisses, toes curling. He does it again and again, until finally he remembers that he has a tongue and wraps his lips around it and _sucks._

It feels like lightning in the soles of her feet. Like the nerves in her body have been set on fire. It’s so...She refuses to believe he’s good at this, insists to herself she’s just enjoying it because she’d enjoy _anything_ after such a long dry spell. He sinks two fingers into her wet heat and she clenches down on them, and in her head it’s Minfilia, it’s always Minfilia. Minfilia peeking up at her from between her legs, mischievous grin and sparkling blue eyes. Minfilia, lips red and kiss-bruised, cheeks flushed pink and giggling. Minfilia, head tossed back and crying out Helissent’s name, wrapping her legs around Helissent’s waist like she was scared to let go. _You shouldn’t have let go of my hand,_ Helissent rages in her mind, _I should’ve dragged you out of those tunnels myself. I should’ve saved you._

She orgasms and bursts into tears at the same time. It ends with her shaking around someone with the wrong mouth, the wrong face, the wrong touch, crying out the name of a dead woman, breaking both her heart and his in the process. 

When he looks at her again, he’s crying, too. It hurts even sweeter than the orgasm. 

“Thanks,” she says gruffly, wiping away at her tears. 

He sniffs, loud and disgusting, and adjusts himself. “I am glad to be of service,” he replies quietly. 

Look at them. Naked, sweaty, broken. Two people who will never get what they want and can only hope to scavenge for ghosts of it in each other. She looks at him again, his tear-stained face, his come-stained robes. The defeated slump of his shoulders. The hard line of his mouth. She’ll never love him, but in this moment, she does pity him. She pities both of them. 

She misses her wife.

**Author's Note:**

> afoewifj;ldfa i promise she's not actually this mean irl she's just in a very bad headspace and makes very bad decisions and hurts a lot of people


End file.
